


Written in the Stars

by ohjustpeachy



Category: Captain Marvel (2019), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 23:34:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18271361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohjustpeachy/pseuds/ohjustpeachy
Summary: After helping Talos and his family find a new home, Carol realizes how much she's missed having a home of her own. Who better to remind her than Maria and Monica?





	Written in the Stars

After everything, Yon-Rogg and Fury and the Supreme Intelligence, Carol was high on possibility. The things she could do now — the powers of course — but the knowledge, too, made her feel invincible. She was ready to stop wars and reunite families and help her new friends find a home. But when all  _ that _ was said and done, well. She started to crave a home of her own. She hadn’t considered how much she would miss the idea of  _ home _ so much when she blasted off into the night, ready to keep her word to Talos and his family. At the time, her sole focus was finding them a safe place to live after years of being hunted. 

Initially, she’d thought Hala was her home; believed that with the Kree was where she belonged. Then she came to find out about Maria and Monica, the life they have together, the family she was part of too, once. And now that she’d helped build a home from the ground up with Talos, the relief, the comfort, the quiet domesticity of the community inside was palpable. They were at home on a new planet, and day by day, they were making it their own. 

When Carol stopped to catch her breath, to let herself think about the last time she had felt that way, really felt a sense of comfort and belonging like that, she knew it was time to make her way back to C-53. Earth. Louisiana. Maria. Even if she didn’t remember every detail, wasn’t able to drum up every memory they recalled last time she was there, the feeling was unmistakable. Maria was the one person who really  _ knew _ her, arguably better than Carol knew herself. And she hadn’t turned away. Carol had showed up in Maria’s yard like a ghost, full of unfinished business and searching for answers; what she got instead was an incredible, badass best friend, a lifetime of memories, and a little girl she loved with a fierceness she hadn’t known she was capable of.

The first time, when Monica flipped through the collection of photos of the three of them together, so lovingly saved for  _ six years _ despite never knowing if she would ever be back, everything was still so foggy. The whole thing was a frantic scramble to prove her connection to these people who so clearly seemed to know her — to  _ love _ her. It had unnerved and grounded her in equal measure, and she knew without question it was time to go back, to see if she could be a part of that family again, for real this time. Sure, the universe needed her, she wouldn’t give that up, but she needed things, too. 

Carol repeats Maria’s words to herself, sometimes, can hear them no matter what she’s doing or where she is, and that’s the answer, she realizes. “... _ You were the most powerful person I knew, way before you could shoot fire through your fists.”  _ They echo through her mind like a promise as she makes her way back to the Louisiana farmhouse.

And even though she might have known it deep down, Carol can’t help but feel relieved at the ecstatic welcome she receives when she lands in Maria’s yard. The first thing she hears is Monica’s screech, like music to her ears. 

“ _ She’s back!”  _ She calls, loud enough that even the most distant neighbors will know the Rambeaus have company. Monica thunders down the back steps, and Carol is smiling hugely, about to call out a greeting to Lieutenant Trouble when she’s tackled to the ground, the grass sweet and soft beneath her. “I  _ knew _ you’d be back soon. I had a feeling, didn’t I, Mom?” Monica is still shouting, excitement evident in her every word, and Carol realizes with a quick flip of her stomach that Maria had of course followed her daughter to the backyard. 

“Mom was starting to get bored and mopey,” Monica says, conspiratorially, and Carol can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of her. 

“Yeah, well, I always  _ was _ the fun one… you get this energy from  _ me _ I think,” Carol teases, and Maria snorts behind her. 

“Enough, you two! Monica, you gonna let her up or are you the only one who gets a hug? And Carol, unless you’re taking her with you next time, no teaming up against me with my daughter!” Maria’s words have no bite to them, though, and her eyes dance as Carol gets to her feet and grabs her in a hug. She knew she’d missed them, but  _ god, was it good to be back _ .

“Think I could crash on your couch for a while?” Carol asks, and Maria huffs as if offended at the question. 

“You have to  _ ask _ ?” She’s still smiling, holding Carol’s gaze, as they make their way inside.

\--

They eat dinner and neither of them have to say it, how it feels like Carol never left, like she belongs there. Monica catches her up on everything she missed in her time away, talking so fast and feverishly without taking a bite of her dinner that Maria has to remind her to take a breath. It was nice, being missed, hearing the stories. Seeing Maria again.

They do the dishes together after dinner, the picture of domesticity with the radio on low behind them, Maria washing while Carol dries. It’s comfortable and quiet while they finish up, Maria looking up at her with a smile when their fingers brush, reaching for the last plate to put away. Carol thinks she’s about to say something — there’s something new in Maria’s eyes, she thinks. Something Carol can’t quite put her finger on, and she wonders for a minute if it had been there all this time without her noticing. A beat passes and Maria doesn’t say anything and maybe it’s all in her head. Maybe it was always like this, a sense of belonging tinged with an ache for something...more.

“She can’t stop talking about you, you know,” Maria offers, the moment behind them now. 

Carol realizes she’s talking about Monica and smiles. “Lieutenant Trouble living up to her name?”

“She’s a handful alright. Her school has a science fair coming up, and she’s brilliant, you know, wants to do this complex simulation thing, which will cost me a fortune, and no one but her will understand. I said, ‘how about a solar system diorama,’ like kids did back in the day. She asks if we can include all the galaxies no one knows about yet, put the planet _you_ _discovered_ in there! They’d have me committed!” Maria laughs, fondness clear on her face. 

“It would be  _ cool _ and I bet Carol would help me!” Monica chimes in sounding put out, and they exchange a look before laughing, only half surprised she’d been listening in from the stairs. 

After Monica finally goes to bed for real, which only happens after she pops her head in approximately every ten minutes to see what she was missing, Carol and Maria are alone on the living room couch. There’s a sheet covering the cushions, snug and inviting, a pile of blankets on the arm, and Maria is fluffing pillows for the third time when Carol asks if they can look at the box of photos again. 

She wants to look at them, slowly this time, hear the stories behind them all, relive those moments. She explains this and Maria just gives her that  _ look _ again before disappearing into the hall closet and bringing the box back out with her. There were pictures on the walls, too, especially now that she was back, but some of Carol’s favorites were in the box. Christmas. Karaoke. Birthdays for all of them. Heads thrown back, unselfconscious laughter clearly emanating from both of them, and she wanted to know. Wanted to hear Maria talk about — well, everything, really. 

So they do. They get about halfway through them, poking fun at old clothes and disaster hairstyles and faces, until Carol is lulled into a warm sleepiness by the sound of Maria’s voice beside her, and it’s not long before she finds herself with her eyes closed, head slipping down onto Maria’s shoulder. How easy it would be to fall asleep just like this. 

“Asks to look at pictures and falls asleep on me? Time away from earth making you soft?” Maria’s teasing voices brings a small smile to Carol’s face, waking her up a little as she opens her eyes. Maria’s face is so close now, if she leaned up she could… 

Carol stops herself before the thought takes hold, and wonders again. Had it always been like this? So... _ much? _ This careful balance of comfort and a quick twist of nerves? Had she ached for more like she couldn’t help doing now? It’s hard to believe it was ever any other way. The way they’d spent the last hour talking about their shared past, how they’d joined forces in the Air Force, how they’d faced Maria’s pregnancy and Monica’s childhood together for years. They were a family. Maybe she was thinking about it too much, because it was simple, really. They belonged together, Carol and Maria, and their incredible Lieutenant Trouble. 

She thinks briefly of the way her life and her powers changed once she  _ stopped _ pushing her emotions aside, and suddenly, she doesn’t care anymore. This was  _ Maria _ and that unknowable look in her eyes and their easy way together tells her everything she needs to know. Of course it had always been like this, she realizes. She’d just never really had to stop and think about it.

Carol reaches out, taking Maria’s wrist in her hand before she could second guess herself again. Her pulse is quick, a rabbit’s heartbeat beneath her fingers even when the rest of her stilled, looking at Carol with, finally, understanding in her eyes. She leans in, tucking a piece of blond hair back behind Carol’s ear, and she’s surprised to find herself shiver slightly at the contact. 

Maria’s hand stays in her hair, and the corner of her mouth twitches upward. “I knew you’d remember. Just took you some time…” 

A relieved smile spreads across Carol’s face. “I guess you’re worth remembering,” she murmurs, going for light-hearted, but the seriousness in her voice quickly gives her away. 

“ _ We _ are worth remembering,” Maria confirms, and the kiss she presses to Carol’s temple is shockingly familiar; soft and intimate and perfect. Warmth runs through her, and when their lips meet somewhere in the middle, she isn’t surprised at how it feels this time, because it feels like  _ home _ .

“Does this mean I don’t have to sleep on the couch?” Carol asks, again going for sarcasm and missing the mark. Maria just rolls her eyes and smiles at her, pulling her up from the couch and burying her face in Carol’s hair for a long moment. 

“Like I said, you always were a pain in the ass.  _ And _ a blanket hog. But let’s go to bed, Carol Danvers.”

And wasn’t it miraculous? Finding someone you didn’t even know you remembered, and creating a life with them? For that person to be so deeply ingrained in your subconscious that you didn’t need every piece of the puzzle to know you belong with them? It feels suddenly enormous to Carol. She’d seen galaxies and planets and creatures most people couldn’t begin to fathom, but it was this moment, being here with Maria like they’d never been apart, that stops her in her tracks. The word  _ destiny _ had always felt silly to her, corny and juvenile, but it fit, she realizes. The odds of finding each other again after so much time and space were so slim, that slipping easily into bed, pressed together beneath the cool sheets, feels bigger than the both of them. 

_Destiny. Meant to be._ _Written in the stars._

They might be silly, but they might just be true.

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of this was inspired by "To Hell and Back" by Maren Morris! A true Carol/Maria song. 
> 
> My wings are frayed and what's left of my halo's black  
> Lucky for me, your kind of heaven's been to Hell and back.


End file.
